Ghost Of Yourself
by toboldlyfangirl
Summary: McCoy is captured while accompanying a landing party to unknown territory, and is tortured to near insanity. Now he won't even let Kirk touch him. Kirk and Spock are determined to fix their best friend, no matter how far gone he is. ANGST. H/C. TORTURE. Don't like, don't read!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The pain is like nothing he has felt before. Not even close to anything he has felt before.

The mental torture is worse than the physical, though not by much.

McCoy sees Jim being ripped to shreds in a reckless attempt to play the hero, Spock losing his brilliant Vulcan mind, going insane.

He sees himself being sucked into the endless vacuum of space...

He sees Joanna being taken away from him forever. And it all seems so _real_.

McCoy can always hear himself screaming during the periods of torture he undergoes, but the noise is distant in his ears, and he is so disoriented that he can hardly feel his own body, he can only see Jim dying, Spock going crazy, space, endless space sucking in around him.

It only got _worse, _more sinister_,_ when Jim would turn on him, stunning him to the ground, or when Spock would back him into something and press hot, pale finger tips to his face, entering his mind... He can't stand these ones. He can't stand any of them.

He can vaguely hear _them_ asking him questions, or at least it sounds like, but he can't understand a damn thing they say. It doesn't even sound like a language to him.

During the occasions that they allow him to recuperate from the stress on his mind or body, McCoy lays curled up on his cell floor, staring blankly at the wall, flinching at sounds that he is only imagining. His blue eyes have become unfocused and glassy, so far from their usual sharp awareness.

He doesn't even remember beaming down to this godforsaken planet or being abducted from his landing party, all he can remember, all he can think of are the horrible mind games.

It hurts so much, to cling onto his own sanity by the skin of his teeth every breath that he takes. He doesn't even know how long he has been here, but it feels like years when he knows it has only been days.

McCoy knows that his sanity is one thing that he can't allow himself to let go of. He can only wait and hope that this will end, very soon.


	2. Chapter 1

This is a pretty messy start to the story, but I promise I'll clean up.

**Chapter 1****  
**

There are many loud noises. McCoy can make out phaser shots, mostly, because they're the loudest ones. He knows they're only his imagination, and that is partially why he doesn't lift his head from the floor. Everything is sluggish, aside from his racing thoughts, and his eyes are definitely open, but he can hardly make out what's in front of his face. They've been unfocused for so long he can barely remember how to look at something straight.

The noises grow louder, closer. McCoy holds his knees tighter to his chest, and bites his tongue to keep from whimpering. It's all in his head, he repeats to himself.

The sound of his cell door opening can barely be heard over the howling in his mind, and he is hefted from the floor and cradled in strong arms. He doesn't feel safe in them at all. Never have they picked him up before, or held him this close, and he's so afraid by the change in behavior that he begins to shake.

McCoy is being moved, but he hasn't got a clue as to where.

He doesn't want to go through the pain again. He can't. His mind is close to spilling over with frightening false memories of people he cares about, and it's driving him insane, completely_ insane_... He isn't even one hundred percent sure what's true anymore. Is Jim his friend, or his foe? Are Spock's eyes clear and bright with intelligence, or clouded with madness?

What could they possibly do to him now, he wonders as they carry him off. More of the mind games, or will they continue the beating from last time? He hopes for the latter. But why would they have to move him from his tiny cell, where they can corner him?

Aside from that, haven't they realized that McCoy isn't going to give them _anything_? He doesn't understand it, dammit, he doesn't.

When he's using common sense, McCoy knows that this torture could go on forever until they get whatever it is that they want.

The one thing he'd forced himself to remember through this was that Jim would save him, but McCoy is beginning to feel like he's losing himself in his own mind. He can't wait for Jim anymore. Jim's not coming. So, he starts begging.

...

* * *

Kirk watches from an unoccupied corner in Sickbay as McCoy is placed down onto a biobed. The doctor is shivering so violently it looks like he is being racked with convulsions, he is drenched in cold sweat, and his hazy eyes are flicking this way and that. He looks as if he doesn't recognize where he is. Two nurses hold him down firmly by his upper arms and speak reassuring words as he begins to struggle, while M'Benga prepares a hypo.

As frantic as they are, McCoy's movements are sloppy and there is next to no power behind them. He thrashes, uselessly, tossing his head to the side, limbs jerking, causing more blood to seep from them. High pitched, drawn out whimpers fall from his mouth, along with pleads for mercy. His voice is raspy and nearly as weak as his attempts at escaping the nurses.

The smells of blood, sweat, and general uncleanliness overpower Kirk's senses. The captain had been asked to leave earlier, but firmly refused to, not wanting to take his eyes off of McCoy for a second. Not after he'd only just gotten him back.

McCoy was almost unrecognizable under the mass of injuries marring his skin, his usually sharp, focused mind now evidently so fogged with agony and fear that he has not even yet realized where he is, let alone that he's been rescued.

M'Benga shoots the hypo containing a sedative into McCoy's upper arm, and after a few moments more of writhing McCoy falls silent, unconscious. M'Benga lets out a small, shaky sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath.

Suddenly Jim can hardly watch this, but he forces himself to. It's his fault that McCoy is in this state, and it's his responsibility to make sure he ends up alright. He will not lose Bones. He can't lose him. Not like this.

The fact that he doesn't know what happened to McCoy down on that planet makes Kirk almost sick to his stomach with the possibilities. He has witnessed and suffered many horrible things, but seeing McCoy like this is downright disturbing. It's obvious that some sort of life forms did this to the doctor, judging by his begging, as if he knew someone was there with an intention to hurt him.

Remembering the defeated way McCoy had said "Please, not again" sent a shiver down Kirk's spine.

The biofunction monitor above McCoy's head is making urgent noises as one of the nurses run a medical scanner over the doctor's still body, often glancing up at the readings on the screen. He can't get a clear sight of McCoy in the middle of the steady, organized movements of the nurses, and after a few moments he gives up trying.

The almost calm voice of M'Benga is a lilt of commands humming in the captain's subconscious as his mind begins to tune everything out except for the blood pounding in his head and the constant question _will Bones be okay?_ Kirk is gratified that he can entrust his injured friend to the other doctor, especially while anxiety is attacking his nerves.

Kirk slowly but steadily grows exhausted with worry as the minutes turn into hours that feel like days, and it seems as if this whole ordeal will never end. He can only imagine how the medical staff must feel, working over someone who is usually giving them the orders.

Kirk waits.

...

* * *

M'Benga, now the acting CMO, approaches Kirk, who has taken a seat to his refuge in the corner. Kirk straightens, rising to his feet in a fluid motion, despite his exhaustion. He looks intently at M'Benga, trying to read his facial expression.

"Well, Doctor? Will he be alright?" he asks insistently.

M'Benga glances behind himself, over at McCoy, who is now alone on the biobed, utterly immobile except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. "He'll be okay now. You can sit with him now, if you would like," he says tiredly. "Just be careful around the equipment and him, Captain."

Kirk's heart soars, and he nods and smiles wanly, clapping M'Benga's shoulder in a thankful gesture, before heading over to McCoy, chair in tow.

He seats himself on McCoy's left side, where less medical instruments are standing by, and takes the unconscious doctor's hand tenderly. He notices that the bones of McCoy's hands are much more defined- unhealthily so. They were no longer broken and purple, like they'd been when Kirk had found him.

"Bones," he says softly, but the sentence trails off. He pauses, then tries again. "Bones, you... you have no idea how much you scared me back there."

McCoy remains unresponsive.

Kirk turns to comforting himself in the solid feel of the doctors fingers, laying them gently as possible in his open palm, then curling his fingers until they are only just touching McCoy's. He promises to himself that he will not leave his friend's side tonight. He settles in to sleep, McCoy's hand still in his own.

...

* * *

Kirk wakes to someone gently calling his name. He is slumped over, head resting on a folded arm, his other hand still clutching McCoy's securely even in sleep. A dull ache pulses in his back and shoulders.

Kirk sits up slowly, blinking at his first officer, who gradually swims into his vision. "Oh, h'llo Spock," he slurs, still half asleep. He rubs at his eyes using the hand that is not holding McCoy's, then runs it wearily down his face. Kirk glances down at the doctor. He is still as dead to the world as the previous night, but Kirk notices his breathing has evened out ever so slightly.

"Good morning, Captain," Spock replies politely. "You appeared uncomfortable, it seemed that I should rouse you."

Kirk smiles warmly, feeling a spark a fondness towards his first officer. "I suppose you're right. My back does feel sort of stiff..."

Spock nods sagely, making Kirk want to smile a little wider, but he sobers as Spock retrieves a chair and sits himself down on McCoy's right, across from Jim, being careful around the equipment that is ready to help the sedated CMO if needed.

"Spock, what are you doing?" Kirk asks, pausing in the middle of stretching to eye the Vulcan quizzically.

Spock raises a slanted eyebrow. "I am accompanying you," he says, as if it should be quite obvious.

Kirk frowns. "Aren't we on shift by now? Is someone covering for us?"

Spock continues to stare at Kirk, his face neutral as ever except for that shinning in his dark eyes. "Captain, it is likely that we have been 'covered for' by now."

Kirk feels his his own eyebrows shoot up. "Spock, that's oddly unethical of you," he observes, slightly surprised at his first officer's behavior. Spock appears unfazed, and continues as if his captain had not just told him, albeit indirectly, that he isn't doing his job properly.

"Captain, I have taken care of it. We may remain here with Doctor McCoy. Unless you would rather we returned-"

"No," Kirk interrupts, knowing it's not quite right to forfeit his shift but not changing his mind for a moment. "I'll stay with Bones."

Spock raises his eyebrows slightly and nods again. "I've come in this morning to pay a visit to the good doctor," he changes the subject smoothly. His gaze softens as his eyes flick down to McCoy. "How is he coping, Jim?"

Kirk sighs, losing his smile, but is soothed by the rare use of his first name, and begins stroking the unconscious doctor's hand with his thumb. "He's... Well, he's safe now. And that's all I need to know."

Spock doesn't reply, and continues to look down at McCoy, now placing one hand gingerly over the doctor's bare forearm, which surprises Kirk. He's careful not to show it, not wanting to make Spock self conscious. His usually calculating dark eyes speak volumes of thankfulness and relief now, at least to Kirk they do. He can see the hidden emotions.

The two of them sit together in a sort of grieving silence, and Kirk listens to McCoy's breathing.

...

* * *

Over the course of a week, Kirk endures McCoy's screaming fits.

The night it had started, Kirk had been sleeping soundly next to McCoy, and the tortured noises coming from the doctor's mouth had woken him with a violent start, and drew the attention of every medical staff member on shift. Kirk had sat holding McCoy's hand tightly and waited for it to stop, waited for McCoy's quick, scratchy breaths to become slower, waited for McCoy's fingers and toes to stop curling in pain that was only being imagined.

Every time he tried to wake McCoy up, and get him to realize that he was no longer down on that savage planet, the doctor would only give the same unnerving behavior as when they first retrieved him; staring vacantly, trembling vigorously.

Kirk _hates_ the things that did this. He'd thought McCoy was at peace now on the Enterprise, but even he can't protect the doctor from his own mind.

The captain had managed to pay visits to his CMO quite often in the past week, but they were becoming less and less frequent. He could not neglect his duty as Captain of the Enterprise forever, after all. He did have a job to do.

However, McCoy's nightmares are only becoming _more_ frequent. His body had managed to heal, besides the considerable loss of weight, but it seemed his mental state wasn't so well off. He's still lost in his own world, and there's nothing Kirk can do about it.

Kirk feels more helpless than ever, sitting back and watching as one of his best friends is unendingly submerged in dark memories in the form of nightmares, not able to resurface.

The captain's heart gives a dull, aching throb. The same ache it has been feeling all week.

_"Chapel to bridge."_

Kirk starts out of his dark shrouded thoughts. He blinks, almost surprised to find himself seated in the command chair on the bridge where he has been for the past few hours.

After a moment, he covers up his bewilderment with a sheepish smile at Sulu, who is looking over his shoulder at his captain from where he's sitting at his console, worry written plainly on his face.

Kirk quickly looks away, opening communication. "Kirk here. What is it?"

His gut twists with an uncomfortable foreboding as his thoughts immediately fly to McCoy.

_"Captain, it's Leonard."_ Chapel's voice is just short of jubilant, rather the opposite of what Kirk had been expecting.

He sits forward in his seat, his heart beginning to pound. "Yes, what is it?" he asks excitedly, barely noticing how the entire bridge seems to quiet down, excluding the constant hum of technology. Spock is still facing his station, but also listening with rapt attention.

_"Well, he's... He's awake and he's coherent. Has been for the past little while. I've gotten him to sit up, but... no walking."_

Kirk's heart leaps. Bones is awake and alert! Kirk can talk to him now, can finally ask everything that he has been dying to ask. And most importantly, he can see his friend whole and healthy again.

"Tell him I'll be right down," he says with finality. He closes the communication before Chapel can protest.

"Mister Spock, you've got the con," he appoints, all but leaping up from his chair. He is entering the turbolift, before anyone on the bridge can say a word, heading straight for Sickbay.

As the doors slide closed, Spock is tempted to go with him, but knows that he should give this time to just the two of them, and so gets up and heads over to the command chair after an inhumanly short moment of contemplation.

...

* * *

Kirk is practically bouncing with excitement by the time he reaches the medical bay, but as he enters he is abruptly halted in his tracks by nurse Chapel.

"Captain," She says firmly, her tone demanding Kirk's attention. Kirk pulls his eager, searching gaze away from the next room, where the biobeds, one occupied by McCoy, are enticingly situated.

He looks down at Chapel inquiringly.

"Captain, I know I've just told you this, but I have to warn you," Chapel lowers her voice to a near-whisper, and Kirk leans forward a little to hear her better. "Leonard may be a little... sensitive." The nurse looks down for a moment before re-locking her gaze with Kirk's.

"He's still pretty- no, make that extremely weak, and he may not be able to talk much. Just, be gentle, and don't try to push him."

Kirk edges away from her, nodding a little impatiently. "Yes, of _course_. Were you not expecting that?"

"I know you'll be careful with him, captain, but he is very sensitive right now. Treat him like a lady."

Kirk snorts humorlessly, turning and entering the medical bay, leaving Chapel behind in the office looking after him, her lips tight. Kirk's hazel eyes scan the room searchingly, until they find a pair of light blue ones looking back at him in momentary alarm.

Bones.

The doctor is propped up at a forty-five degree angle, looking quite comfortable, though Kirk notices straight away how pale and thin he still is.

"Jim!" McCoy says enthusiastically, but quietly at the same time, a small, uncertain smile touching his lips. The sight of McCoy's quirked lips sends a happy jolt through Kirk's heart.

Before either of them realize it, Kirk is next to the biobed hugging the doctor gently but firmly, almost protectively. No, it isn't quite his best move in that situation, but right then Kirk feels such a strong relief and affection for the doctor that he can't stop himself.

Kirk doesn't immediately notice the CMO go rigid with terror in his grasp, and pulls away from him with an oblivious smile. McCoy smiles weakly back.

Feeling how tense McCoy's shoulders are under his palms, Kirk pulls his hands away and takes a half step back, worried that he'd hurt him. "Sorry," he quickly apologizes, lowering his hands to his sides.

McCoy shakes his head, though Kirk can still see the stiffness in his shoulders. "S'okay, Jim."

Kirk wants to ask McCoy so many questions, how was he feeling, could he remember anything, what happened down there, but he manages to restrain himself.

"You look a lot better, Bones," He says in a low voice, for he is reluctant to break the calm serenity of the bay and, seemingly, of the doctor himself. It's so quiet compared to before, when McCoy's howling would fill the room for hours.

"I feel a lot better, too," McCoy chuckles softly, the sound scratchy in his throat.

"Have they managed to reverse all the damage?" Kirk questions, his eyes scanning over McCoy's slightly gaunt form, not finding any visible scarring.

"Yeah, all the damage is gone, nothin' permanent," McCoy reassures, but suddenly he can't meet his captain's eyes. "Just been a bit weak. I'll be back on my feet in a couple days, no doubt."

Kirk laughs with nervous relief, not seeming to mind the disconnection of their gazes. McCoy's eyes had looked oddly glassy, like he wasn't really seeing what was in front of him. "That's wonderful, Bones. I was so worried about... whether I'd ever see you again."

Kirk feels his throat start to close a little, and he is the one to look away now, embarrassed. If he were completely honest, he had never been more afraid for Bones in his life. Indeed, _worried_ is a major understatement.

McCoy is silent for a moment, then reaches over and gently, almost hesitantly and using only his fingertips, pats Kirk's arm, which is hanging limply at his side.

"Well, there's no need to worry yourself silly anymore, which I'm sure you've been doing. I'm right here," He says fondly, trying to catch Kirk's eye again. "Why don't you take a seat, if you're gonna stay a little while?"

Kirk nods slowly, wandering over to a visitors' chair and pulling it up to the biobed, then all but falling into it, resting his forearms on the edge.

"Do you... remember anything?" Kirk asks, trying to be nonchalant and sure that he is failing miserably.

McCoy's lips tighten, but other than that he simply tilts his head. "What d'you mean by that, Jim?"

"I mean, do you... do you remember waking up in Sickbay, before now? At all?"

McCoy's brows furrow, and he seems genuinely confused now as he gives a small shake of his head. "No, not at all... Did I?"

Kirk swallows. "Yes, a few- a few times. You were mostly, er, out of it."

McCoy nods slowly. "Okay."

"Bones, I..." He tries to say something, anything, to lighten this heavy feeling in his heart, but can't think of a single proper thing to say. His chest is only getting tighter as the seconds go by.

"What is it, Jim?" McCoy asks, sounding slightly concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?" Kirk winces as he hears his voice shake, and suddenly, it triggers something in him. Once the first tear falls, it's near impossible stop the next ones following, and his chest suddenly feels light as he releases his pent up emotions from the past few days.

The captain puts his head in his hands and cries noiselessly for a long time, as McCoy lays there and watches him, clearly at a loss for what to do. Kirk thinks how he should be the one comforting McCoy, and guilt begins to mingle with the hurricane of feelings.

McCoy is the one who was missing for nearly seven days. McCoy is the one who has been sliced into, burnt, beaten; savagely tormented, within that time. God knows what else, because McCoy has spoken nothing of his experience, for obvious reasons; being completely unaware of his surroundings for a full week.

_McCoy is the victim here._

Yet Kirk is too filled with raw, intense emotion to fix this at the moment. He continues to silently cry, letting all his stress ebb away, for what feels like an eternity instead of the actual short time that it was.

He is so devastatingly _relieved_ that McCoy is alright now. He'll never let this happen to his friend again.

tbc


End file.
